Goodbye, 114.

I have officially left my first teaching position.

Yesterday, after a long weekend of celebrating my sister-in-law’s bachelorette party, I went in and packed the rest of my stuff into my car. I had already packed up my personal belongings, but I had yet to move them to my car.

I turned in my keys, my computers, the yearbook camera.

I signed off, left a forwarding address. Cried.

I reflected on eight years of teaching, on leaving. I accepted the grief that I feel, knowing damn well it’s inevitable.

I took pictures of my first classroom: my second home the last eight years.

Maybe I’m melodramatic in my feelings about this move, but it sure felt like it was a big one.

I mean, obviously it is. In the next three weeks we’ll be closing on our house, having a family wedding, cleaning, painting, and moving on the 24th.

Every weekend this month is booked. I feel like I haven’t given myself real time to process, and maybe that’s better. Or maybe it’s foolish.

Maybe I’m na├»ve. I mean…probably.

I have finally reached the point of anticipation though. Where I’m getting excited to move, to start fresh. To set up a new classroom, a new house. To get adjusted to all the changes we’re making.

That’s progress, honestly.

I spent the first couple weeks after I took this job, after we told the community, and more importantly my students, about our plans second guessing. I questioned if I was being selfish. If it was really best for us. If I was hurting my own children. If Nate would grow to hate me, resent me.

Although those feelings drip in every now and then, there’s more excitement and nerves than anything. Obviously my imposter syndrome makes me feel that I’m going to fuck up the teaching aspect of all of this. But…I’m still excited to try. To teach somewhere new. To teach new people, with new coworkers.

And I think, one of the hardest things for me to finally accept, is that wanting to be somewhere new, with a new school environment: a younger admin, younger coworkers, not being the only English teacher in the high school, etc. isn’t a betrayal to the school and staff that got me started.

You can love where you’re from and still want to grow.

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